


Stained Glass Variations of the Truth

by thelittlelioness



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Cabeswater - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelioness/pseuds/thelittlelioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cabeswater was making Adam less and less himself, or it was making him more and more himself. He wasn’t quite sure, but he did feel most himself in Cabeswater. Actually, he felt most himself in Cabeswater with Ronan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stained Glass Variations of the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> The dynamic between the raven gang and Cabeswater is so intriguing. Cabeswater is so intriguing. I wanted to explore the sentient side of it, and how it uses forces of nature to convey its will, and how that manifests in Adam and Ronan's relationship with themselves and each other. 
> 
> Title is from Neptune by Sleeping at Last, which is in general a fantastic Pynch song.

The night sky burned on Adam’s back, shoulders red and raw, freckles chafing against the stars. When the morning sun rose, he regained his sanity. But for now, in the dark, he was wild.

In his good ear, he could hear the sounds of life: humans laughing, the leaves of Cabeswater trees rustling in the wind, galloping broncos and chirping birds. In his deaf ear was the rush of the ocean, tsunamis of white noise so pure they were nothing at all. He could feel the blood soak into his teeth like the wolves in Yellowstone, though it wasn’t there at all. It was the ultimate power trip, and he was lost in the chaos, unable to yield to temptation. He did as Cabeswater said, and that kept it at bay.

But sometimes Cabeswater had crazy ideas. So thunder sounded, null of rain to boot, which did nothing to help Adam’s sleep-deprived headaches.

Ronan didn't seem to mind the thunder, and that spoke volumes.

The day’s festivities — repairing bits and pieces of Cabeswater, the usual — had led them from fall, through summer, into spring. They were nearing winter once they were finished, and the chill blowing in from the left was a welcome reprieve from Henrietta’s humidity.

They both collapsed onto the ground, and Adam resisted closing his eyes. With every bang of thunder he was closer to giving in; with every bang he repeated one word to himself, like mantra meditation: awake. Each clap resounded in the beat of his heart, and if it weren’t for Ronan next to him, he would have lost himself in Cabeswater.

Ronan nudged him with his shoulder. “Look up.”

The sky was on fire. Only, no — “What is that?”

“They’re called sprites. I see them in my dreams at the Barns, sometimes.”

“...Must be a type of lighting, right? Plasma?”

“You’re the genius; you tell me.” Ronan looked at him sideways then laid back. Sweat formed a crescent on his grey t-shirt. “Better yet — call up Gansey. If he doesn’t know, he has a book there somewhere on it.”

Adam didn’t have a response to whatever barbed bitterness Ronan had against his friendship with Gansey. As if Ronan wasn’t perceptive enough to notice that Adam often felt like an outsider even with his best friends. He knew Ronan was being an asshole on purpose, but he could feel his fatigue as if it were tangible, so he let it slide.

Another clap of thunder shook the ground, the air. Enhanced the electricity between them.

“You know, I’m not me anymore. After Cabeswater.”

Ronan grunted.

“But lately, I’ve been wondering if it’s the reverse. If Cabeswater is making me into who I am.”

“Don’t get too meta on me, Parrish.”

“No, I….Who do you think you’d be, without your dreams?”

Ronan sat up to look Adam straight in the eye. “Dead, probably.”

 _Like Kavinsky._ It went unsaid, like all mentions of Kavinsky.

There was an irony in that. Adam knew Ronan’s constant battle with his dreams was both exhausting and quite deadly at times; this time, he leapt over that mental fence to see how the dreams saved Ronan.

And Adam felt himself in this Ronan. It was visceral and raw, that nagging sensation that they were one and the same. Both barely surviving, all thanks to the bit of magic inside each of them. He glanced over and knew Ronan sensed it too. It was reflected in both their eyes.

Maybe this was why Cabeswater had chosen Adam: it needed him to see the big picture. He was always so focused on the tiny rips in his Aglionby uniform, on calculating and recalculating how much money he would make if he worked this many hours. In everyday practice he cared so much about the little troubles that he was incapable of enjoying the moment and the magic.

“You’re better than that. I know you’re better than that,” Adam finally said. It was directed at both of them — he too needed to believe that they could have made it if they were ordinary, no outside forces of fate working on them.

“And you?”

“I think we’re too young to be thinking of death so much.” It was a deflection, but Ronan knew the answer anyway.

"Yeah? Come talk to me when any of us have a fucking choice in the matter,” Ronan snapped, and Adam immediately felt like an ass. “And fuck you too, Cabeswater.”

“Don’t make it angry!” Adam could feel the venom seeping through the trees’ roots in the constructing of his throat, in the increase of the throbbing in his head.

“Fuck if I care. These ley lines took away my family, and they’re gonna take Gansey, and —”

Ronan knew. How could Ronan know?

Everything stopped — a byproduct of the Cabeswater in Adam’s mind. The voices in his head — the trees — morphed into whispers. All sensory information seeped out of Adam’s mind, save for one word, one guttural feeling.

“Gansey?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz fuck if he and Sargent will be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“Right.” Adam considered telling Ronan about Blue’s death list, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wasn’t sure if that was his cowardice or Cabeswater’s will. Was it selfish to want that little piece of darkness to himself? For a boy who got so few things to himself, was selfishness a virtue?

Adam heard Ronan mutter something else about death, about Noah, but most of his aggression had faded.

“There must be some natural order to it, though, right?” He was thinking of Blue and all the women from 300 Fox Way. “ — that all the horrible things are in balance with the wonders?”

Ronan shrugged. “Sometimes I just think there’s nothing — bad shit happens and that’s the end. God doesn’t give a fuck, otherwise he would’ve prevented it. But it could just be some backwards-ass way of warning us that we should appreciate what we have when we have it.”

God, Adam wasn’t so sure of. But he was sure of Cabeswater, and he just couldn’t get an earlier thought out of his head. _Cabeswater created me._

So when Adam pushed Ronan against a nearby tree, both still sitting, and kissed him, it didn’t matter if it was Cabeswater or all Adam Parrish. They were one entity, and they sure did love Ronan Lynch.

The wind picked up, swirling around them in a way that felt like they were inside a Van Gogh. The leaves danced, and the birds chirped louder, probably singing to Ronan in Latin. Most of Adam’s attention was directed towards Ronan, of course, and God, those lips, but the thunder was dying down, he was sure of it.

“I think we’re all gonna die, and I think it’s gonna be painful, but that doesn’t mean none of this matters now.” Adam’s Henrietta accent was paying a visit, and it was a good thing Ronan was still sitting, because it always made his knees weak.

“That’s something Gansey would say.” Ronan smirked, but it held no weight because he was still flushed from the kiss.

“It’s something Cabeswater would say,” Adam corrected. He slipped his hand in Ronan’s and stood up, pulling Ronan up with him.

“Come on. It’s late.”

“Not like I’m gonna get any sleep tonight anyways,” Ronan mumbled.

“I’ll race you to your car,” Adam suggested, a grin playing on his lips.

“You’re on.” Ronan took off. He would win, and then he would wipe that stupid beautiful smile off Adam’s face, and —

“Hey, Lynch,” Adam called out as he passed Ronan. It was those goddamn long legs of his.

“I’m coming to get you, Parrish.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I can think of a few things.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
